Chapter 17
Fin
The entire sidelines stood, everyone, ready to take the field. We couldn’t look away from Troy Dennison. “Move,” I said under my breath. “Damn it, move,” I screamed louder.
My yells were part of a chorus as the entire team’s screams turned to silence.
The medical personnel as well as Coach Tilson and Pratt were on the field.
The Coopers’ offense was now kneeling in a circle around our star player.
Crystal Light Stadium that had seconds ago been roaring was now deadly silent as everyone watched.
The cameras were no longer on Dennison. With the wall of players, we couldn’t see a thing.
As someone reached for my hand, I turned, looking down field.
The players on the sidelines were now kneeling. I joined them. My gaze went to the woman on the sidelines. Vee stood with her hands clenched to her chest. It was the shattered look of helplessness that stuck like a knife in my chest.
Troy Dennison was the Coopers’ miracle. A first-round draft pick from Alabama, last season he outplayed all the predictions. The kid was only twenty-three years old. I closed my eyes.
The ring of cheers and applause caused me to open my eyes and stand.
Troy was on a long stretcher, his neck and head braced. The camera caught him lifting his hand and waving at the crowd. The relief was overwhelming. I turned once again toward Vee, seeing her wipe her cheeks.
“Fin,” Coach Garcia, the quarterback coach, screamed. “You’re in.”
Teammates slapped my shoulder pads. “Fuck them.”
“Make them pay.”
“You’ve got this.”
Their words were the sparks igniting a fire within me. I’d wanted a few more years. Taking the job with the Coopers was supposed to be my firsthand view to budding greatness. That was my opinion of Dennison. The kid had the potential of a Hall-of-Famer written all over him.
Over the last few weeks, he and I had worked out after practice because Garcia wanted us to.
Tuesday mornings, we worked out together because we wanted to.
I might be the veteran, but during those moments with only the two of us in the workout room, we both shared our knowledge, our advice, and our secrets to success.
The ruling on the field had been roughing the passer. Pickard, the Titan linebacker, was ejected with possible suspensions. Unnecessary roughness resulted in a fifteen-yard penalty and an automatic first down. That put our line of scrimmage on the Titans’ thirty-yard line.
Drew spoke, facing me, his lips hidden from cameras.
Holding on to my shoulder pads, he screamed, “We’re within field-goal range.
Holt can make a forty-seven-yard attempt.
” He shook his head. “I don’t want to play prevent here.
” His smile grew. “Show the world what Griffin Graham can do. Show LA they were wrong to keep you on the bench. Go.”
The offense ran onto the field.
We huddled.
I gave the call. Instead of break, I yelled, “For Dennison.”
We lined up in split-back formation. The Titans’ defense shifted, preparing for the run play.
I called out the play again, with a slight change, running an RPO—run pass option.
The sons-of-bitches were expecting us to run.
They thought by bringing down Dennison, they brought down the Coopers’ passing game.
I set the cadence. “Set, hut!”
The ball was snapped from center. I stepped back, reading my progressions. Our offensive guards and tackles were giving me time. I fake passed to Morgan, our full back. He took off. The defense took the bait. I looked down field. JD was wide open. My arm went back.
The grasp and throw were second nature. I let it rip.
As soon as the ball left my hand, I was tackled.
There were no fucks I had to give. Brushing the defender off, I sat up in time to see JD with the catch in the endzone.
Fireworks spouted from the stadium as the crowd screamed.
“Good job, Fin,” came from inside my helmet.
As we ran off the field, I turned away from the coaches and peered where Vee had been. The tears she’d shed for Dennison were gone, replaced by a beautiful smile.
“Any word on Troy?” I asked Coach Garcia as our extra-point special team took the field.
“Concussion protocol,” he said. “We’ll know more after the docs do their thing. He’s moving all extremities. You’re in for the rest of the game.”
For Dennison became our mantra. The Coopers’ defense was on fire. Going into the final two minutes of the game, the score was thirty-one Coopers to nineteen, Titans. They’d been held to field goals.
Miscommunications with our kicking team unexpectedly had a Titan rushing eighty-seven yards for a touchdown. Within only seconds, we were now only up by six. The Titan offense went back on the field trying for a two-point conversion.
Crystal Light Stadium was the loudest I’d ever heard. The fans were as rabid as the players on the field. A chant came from the stands— “For Dennison. For Dennison.”
Our defense held.
“Offense, prevent, offense. Use the clock,” Drew said. “We don’t want to let them back on the field.”
The first two plays our offensive line created holes. The backs made three yards and five yards respectively. We were now third down and two. The play in my ear was for another run. As we lined up in split formation, I scanned the defense. Their cornerbacks were tight. I called another RPO.
The ball was snapped.
I read my progression.
JD Downing was covered.
Kylon Lewis, one wide receiver was blocked.
Ramel Patel, our other wide receiver was open.
I threw the ball.
Patel caught the ball on the Titan’s forty-seven-yard line. Patel was tackled, staying in bounds. The clock kept ticking. The next play was a run play. We needed one more first down to run out the clock.
On second down, I threw the ball to Morgan who went wide left. It was now third down and one. The ball was snapped. I held on and ran, Morgan and Bennett tush-pushed behind me.
“First down,” came from the speakers above.
The Titans had a timeout remaining, but so did we.
The game was over.
Coopers won.
Tilson met me at the sidelines. “Tomorrow we’re going to talk.”
I could have argued my case for not following the play call, but experience told me to wait, wait for tomorrow. We’d know more about Troy by then and cooler heads would hopefully prevail.
Vee was standing near the tunnel after I’d had a chance to be interviewed by a few of the broadcasters on the field.
Her smile was stunning. “Good game, Graham.”
“And you didn’t want me here.”
She tilted her head. “I can admit when I’m wrong. Can you?”
Morgan slapped my shoulder pads. “Get in here, Fin.”
When I turned, Vee was gone.